Hidden Agendas (27 page)

Her lips skimmed over his neck to his chest. She bit. She licked. She had electricity pouring into his body, tightening his nerve endings and cascading along each cell with a pleasure he wasn't certain he could withstand.

She was like whiskey. Potent. Fiery. Burning clear to his soul with her feminine demand, sharp little bites, and satiny licks.

"Ah sugar. Keep this up and I'm going to lose my head," he said, his hands in her hair, sifting his fingers through the strands as she nipped at his lower chest.

She was going lower. Drawing close to his cock, her hungry lips and tongue tightening his muscles into a mass of anticipation.

"I want to feel you," she whispered as her lips went lower, licking inches from the head of his dick. "In my mouth. Against my tongue. I want to feel you like I can't feel you inside me. Without a condom. With nothing but your flesh against me."

Shit. Hell. Fuck. He was going to come before she ever touched him. If he didn't get a hold on her—

She got a hold on him instead. Her tongue slid over the head of his cock, her mouth surrounded it, and Kell knew he was lost. His hands tightened further in her hair for long seconds as he fought the need to control it, to keep her from bringing him to release too soon.

Her mouth surrounded the throbbing head, drew it deep, and began to suckle with such innocent pleasure he swore he felt his eyes water.

He had never been tasted, taken with such pleasure. He had never had another woman worship his body, his cock, as his sweet Emily was worshipping him.

"Chère. Sugar. Sweet, sweet Emily," he groaned, thrusting against her hips with a short jerk of his hips he couldn't control. "You're gonna get in trouble with that wicked mouth."

She shuddered at the sensual threat, then another, harder tremor washed over her as his hand moved from her hair, trailed down her spine then clenched on the rounded curve of her rear.

"Like that, little fox?" he whispered.

The vibration of her approving moan against the flesh of his cock had the hard flesh spasming in warning release.

His fingers clenched again, his lips curving in a tight smile as her suckling faltered. But her moan was just as dangerously exciting.

Slender fingers cupped his balls now as the fingers of her other hand gripped the shaft. And stroked.

Kell drew in a hard breath.

"Let's see if you like this, eh?" He landed a light slap against her rear. Watched her jerk. Felt her moan.

Not hard. Emily wouldn't like a hard caress. She was delicate yet strong. But her flesh was sensitive, easily bruised and easily stung.

He wanted to deliver the lightest touch. Just enough to make her feel the flames, to tempt her, to see how much more she could stand before he went further.

She wiggled her pert little rear and mouthed the head of his cock with enough hunger to send flames racing up his spine. Damn. She would kill him before she finished tonight.

He landed another tap to her rear, grimacing as she tightened, then allowed his fingers to trail along the shallow cleft as she stilled. Like a little fox, waiting, cautious, wary.

He drew back, watching the shudder that raced through her then feeling her mouth draw on his cock again. She was sucking him like a dream. Like a hungry goddess, licking and mouthing his dick as her playful fingers played on his balls and his shaft.

He tapped her rear with his fingers again, just a bit harder, and before she could process the added burn, moved his fingers down her cleft, curved beneath her thighs, and filled her tight, hot pussy with two fingers in a sudden, stretching thrust.

Enough of this playful teasing. He pumped inside the clenching tunnel with the fingers of one hand while the others gripped her hair, held her to him and pumped her mouth with slow, steady strokes.

"Enough teasing, sugar," he growled. "You'll take me now, eh? Now, before we both die from the need."

Kell pulled at Emily’s hair and her mouth sank deeper on his dick, her expression transforming in her pleasure as the pressure on her scalp became a delicate pain.

Hell. Damn it to hell. He loved a woman that liked her hair pulled.

He pulled again, felt her moan, watched her lashes flutter against her cheek as her suckling grew harder.

Deeper. The stroking motions of her fingers over his shaft became firmer, stronger, as the fingers cupping his balls twitched and flexed until he felt the sweet bite of her nails against the tender flesh.

He pulled again, one hand moving to cover hers on his erection as his hips began to move. To thrust into her mouth, to gain control before it was too late to control.

Force of will, he told himself desperately. That was all it took. Pulling from the heated suckling of her mouth nearly destroyed him.

The edge was so close. The hunger rising so sharply inside him that he took time only to push her around on the bed, lift her hips, and begin penetrating her.

Emily stared across the bed in shock, her gaze locked with her own in the mirror across from her before she lifted it to Kell.

Did he know his expression was tortured? Tormented? Nearly as much as hers. He was pushing inside her by slow degrees, making her feel every bite of the impalement, every inch that stroked across every nerve ending.

He had one hand locked in her hair, the other clamped on her hip, and behind her, his face was a mask of lust and need. But his eyes. His eyes were filled with something. Something hot, possessive, challenging.

She bucked in his grip, pulling away and smiling in triumph as he slipped from her. She watched his lips firm, watched the determination that crossed his expression before he stilled her movements and began pushing inside her again.

Oh God, it was too good. It was delicious. It was burning and tingling and sending wicked, wicked fingers of sensation to race around her already swollen clit.

"Come 'ere, chère." His voice was hoarse as she pulled forward again, almost dislodging him. "Sweet little fox. My own little fox." He surged forward, burying another inch as her back arched.

Emily saw the frank triumph in his expression then. The dark shimmer of male satisfaction on his piratical face. The days' growth of beard and emerald eyes made him look wicked enough. But that lust and triumph in his expression only made it more so.

"Kell!" Her thoughts were scattered as he burrowed in deeper, his fingers pulling and releasing at her hair, his possession filling her, stretching her.

"Tell me what you like, eh love," he groaned, retreating, penetrating, never filling her enough, never hard enough or deep enough.

As his fingers eased in her hair she jerked forward again, dislodging him once more. A frown edged at his brow. Both hands clamped on her hips, and before she could draw a breath and prepare for it, he was plunging inside her.

"Ah God!" He stilled, trembling nearly as hard as she was shaking. "Fuck. Emily. No condom," he panted, a rivulet of sweat running down the side of his face to disappear into his beard.

No condom.

She stilled, trying to breathe, trying not to clench around the brutally hard flesh inside her. She saw his face then. Saw the struggle in his expression, the need, the force of emotion. And suddenly, she didn't care. She had no intentions of letting him go. Ever. Super Glue would have nothing on Emily Stanton when it came to Kell.

"I don't care," she whispered. "I don't care, Kell."

He was staring at where their bodies were interlocked, sweat now beading his face as he swallowed convulsively. His fingers clenched on her hips. The muscles in his thighs tightened and he began to withdraw. Slowly, so slowly.

Emily dragged in a whimpering breath, both at the retreat as well as the sensations. She wouldn't push it.

She wouldn't demand. Having Kell's baby would be more joy than she could imagine, but—

A ragged, tortured groan left his throat. A second later, he was buried inside her once more and he didn't stop. His hips moved quickly, hard. Each thrust built in pleasure, the feel of his flesh bare inside hers, the stretching heat, the need building and building as she kept her gaze locked on him.

She had to. If she didn't center herself she would fly away. She would explode into fragments that might never find form again.

She arched in front of him, her fingers digging into the blankets as the thrusts increased. Her ragged cries, his male groans. They blended, forming an erotic, sexual tune that whipped around them in ever-increasing force.

The pleasure rose. It burned. It had her crying out his name, desperate for ease even as she fought to keep her gaze on die mirror, fought to watch his face. His lips.

Lips that were parting as she began to come apart. His teeth were clenched as she began to convulse around him, pleasure fragmenting inside her a second before she saw his expression twist. Agony and ecstasy. Her name on his lips, and then more.

I love you, Emily.
He mouthed the words as his eyes closed and he began to jerk, the feel of his release spurting inside her dragging her from the last mooring that held her to earth.

I love you.

There was no sound to the words. Only his lips moving. Only his eyes closed, his expression absorbed, tight with emotion and a male pleasure too sexy to endure.

Emily heard herself scream his name. She felt the shudders shaking her body as she tried to twist out of his grip to escape the sensations that suddenly built upon themselves. Pleasure upon pleasure, explosion upon explosion, until she collapsed to the bed, exhausted. Drained. And holding her secret close to her heart.

Kell loved her. As surely as she knew she loved him, he loved her. And for some reason, he didn't want her to know. He didn't want to give the words voice, and instead kept them silent as his expression twisted with an inner agony. As he lowered himself beside her, still buried in her, still holding her close, he clasped her in his arms as though he feared she would be torn from them.

"I'm sorry," he whispered at her ear. "I shouldn't have done that."

Emily felt her heart drop to her stomach. That was regret in his voice. Not fear. Heavy, remorseless regret.

"No harm done," she whispered. "It's the wrong time of the month anyway."

What the hell was she supposed to say? Okay, it wasn't a foolproof method, but it was true nonetheless.

The time of the month couldn't be safer, and yet the ache in her heart couldn't have gone deeper. Having his baby wouldn't have been a hardship for her. Holding him to her wouldn't have bothered her either.

She felt his hand move over her hair, felt the heavy sigh at her back before he slowly eased from her body. Then he was tucking her beneath the sheets and settling in beside her; the light beside the bed flipped off before his arms were around her again.

And Emily was staring into the dark, blinking back her tears and wondering what the hell had happened.

* * *

Emily was surprised when her father arrived at the house just as they had finished breakfast and were preparing to leave the house.

Ian stepped into the dining room and announced his arrival then stood in the marble foyer as the senator entered surrounded by Reno, Clint, and Macey. His expression was heavy, and the SEALs surrounding him looked—violent.

"What's happened?" She moved toward him, reacting to the fury in his gaze before he caught her in his arms and surrounded her in a hug that reeked of fear.

"Reno?" She heard Kelt's voice behind her, dark, brooding, and prepared.

Emily stared at the SEAL behind her father. Macey. With his ragged haircut, the earring in his ear, faded denim shirt with the arms ripped out, and ragged jeans, he looked more like a biker than a computer expert. He had hams for hands and his broad-shouldered physique, like that of the others, didn't possess an ounce of fat.

A heavy frown creased his face now, rather than the flirty twinkle his eyes usually held. And a frown marred his brow. Something had happened and it wasn't good.

"Dad, what's wrong?" she asked as he finally released her, moving back to breathe out roughly, to stare at her as though he wasn't certain she was really there.

"Get ready to roll," Reno ordered Kell. "You'll proceed to the safe house we've set up for Ms. Stanton and stay in place until further orders."

Emily stared at the hard-eyed SEALs, then at her father.

"Daddy, what's happened?"

"Fuentes's assassin, a man named Rudolph Delgado, arrived via Dulles this morning. Two hours later Macey was contacted by one of his sources that Delgado is here for you. I want you out of here."

He wanted her hiding, he wanted to pull her away, no matter the risks, and force her into hiding for the rest of her life if that was what it took.

"We knew this was coming." She shook her head fiercely. "We've already agreed that I can't run."

"Ms. Stanton, Delgado is the best Fuentes has," Reno argued then. "He arrived within hours of the attempted hit last night. We can't take this chance with your life."

"And I can't run forever." Her heart was chugging in her breasts. "I've listened to Daddy rant about Fuentes. If I run, then I forfeit whatever game he's playing. He won't keep the rules he's laying in place then. Will he?"

Her father's lips flattened as his eyes flashed in rage. "I won't take this chance with your life."

"It's too late." She moved farther away from him, her hand slashing through the air as she fought to think.

"Delgado. What does he do? How does he kill?"

Six pairs of male eyes watched her warily.

"His expertise is with a knife," Kell answered when it was obvious no one else intended to.

She could feel her breathing becoming heavier, her heart racing to keep up with the fear and adrenaline tearing through her.

"Why come to D.C.?" She swallowed tightly. "My plans were to return home today. Everyone knew that. Why come here?"

"He'll expect you to stay in the general area when we try to stash you," Kell answered again. "It would be logical, to keep the team close together rather than separating our strength."

"Was that your plan?"